


Stolen Memory

by PuzzleMeWhole



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzleMeWhole/pseuds/PuzzleMeWhole
Summary: A chance meeting at a ministry function leads to an evening with a surprising consequence. Years later, a prophecy is revealed to Amelia Lizot and La Societe de Sang that foretells of a way to permanently rid the world of muggles based on the recently unearthed six ancient texts which detail the use of six masteries to create the ultimate weapon.





	1. Chapter 1

George Weasley was lounging at his kitchen table in a white cotton t-shirt and striped flannel pajama pants thoroughly enjoying a piece of syrup-drenched French toast and a warm cup of coffee when a tawny brown owl carrying the morning edition of the Daily Prophet began rambunctiously tapping on the window.

“Uhh, alright. Give me a minute, will ya? It’s much too early for that noise!” With a groan he hoisted himself up from his chair and staggered to the window, pulling it open and letting the small owl in. The owl haphazardly fluttered over to the table knocking into George’s bowl and hooted, clearly begging for a tasty morsel.

“Here, take this, and be gone with ya!” George hissed after removing the paper and tossing the owl a slice of ham. He plopped back into his chair and kicked his feet up on the table before lazily removing the string and unfolding the owl’s delivery to read what Rita Skeeter would consider news for the day.

Glancing down at the paper his eyes went wide and coffee spurted from his lips as he cracked up, deep full laughter bubbling up from his belly. “Oh man, ‘Mione’s gonna love this,” he whispered to himself before calling out up the stairs to his flat mate. “Oy! ‘Mione! Get down here for breakfast before I eat all the toast again!”

Hermione Granger was already walking down the stairs fully dressed in dark slacks and a blue button down shirt ready for her day at work at the Ministry of Magic as the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It had been five years since her graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and it hadn’t taken her long to climb the ranks at the ministry with her brilliant crusade for magical creature equality.

“I swear George, you eat my breakfast again and you can find a new best friend… and a new flat mate!” While Hermione had remained close to both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, she had become even closer to Ron’s older brother George. His prankster personality and her sharp wit balanced each other out and allowed them to become fast friends. They had moved into a London flat together three years ago a few miles from Diagon Alley and had been living together ever since.

George picked up the paper and tossed it over to her side of the table as she sat down with a cup of tea, a slice of French toast, and a bowl of fruit. “You should check out the front page. I reckon your friend Rita finally got something right!” he chuckled.

Hermione set down her cup after taking a long sip of warm tea, unfolded the Daily Prophet, and promptly screamed, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” There, on the front page, was an enlarged picture of none other than the bushy haired witch herself just beneath the headline: **Hermione Granger - Year’s Most Eligible Witch!**

* * *

“Gin, honey, is everything ready?” Harry Potter called out to his wife from the living room. It was ten till six and everyone would be arriving is forty minutes for the surprise party that they were throwing Hermione. After five years of hard work his friend’s bill to grant all house elves the right to pay, vacation, and benefits had finally been passed. What had started out as S.P.E.W. when they were just students had become her passion and he couldn’t have been more proud of her for what she had accomplished. At twenty two his friend was the youngest department head in history.

Ginny Weasley was just putting the finishing touches on the cake that she had baked for the party. The icing read, “Way to Go Hermione” and had a small image of a house elf below it. “I’ll have everything out in about fifteen minutes, Harry!” she replied to her husband. “I’ve just got to finish up this cake and then we will be all set.”

Striding through into the kitchen, Harry wrapped his arms around his wife and gently kissed her neck. “You know I just want her to have a good time. She never lets go anymore,” he whispered. It was most certainly the truth. Since they had graduated, Hermione had thrown herself into her work. She had shocked everyone with her professional prowess, but had sacrificed her personal life completely. He had tried three different times a few years back to set her up with one of his auror friends, but every time after the blind dates she had politely informed him that they weren’t her type and she didn‘t want to see them again. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been on a single other date since.

“She really does need to let loose a bit. She’s an amazing woman, but she’s got to learn to relax,” Ginny admitted. “Maybe now that this bill had passed, things will be different. It has been her main focus since school so she’s got to have some extra time available.”

* * *

Lavender Weasley grabbed the small gift wrapped in teal wrapping paper and white ribbon from the coffee table and shrunk it to fit into her purse before heading out the door. “You ready Ron-Ron?” she asked her husband as she took his hand. Before he could answer she spun around and with a pop they apparated over to the Potter’s home.

“Oy, woman! You could at least wait for me to say yes!” he griped while pulling his arm away from his wife. “You know I hate it when you do that!”

Lavender just giggled back at him as she opened the door and walked in through the door. “Hello Harry! How are you doing?” she queried when she saw Harry waiting to greet them on the other side of the entry way. “Thanks for inviting us tonight!”

Harry glanced behind Lavender at his best friend whose cheeks were tinged Weasley-temper-red. “Apparated him again, did ya Lavender? Glad you two could make it! George should be bringing Hermione over any minute. Everyone else is in the living room waiting.”

He watched the couple walk away into the living room and waited patiently by the door for his friend to arrive. Less than five minutes later, he opened the door to see a confused Hermione muttering at George with an arched eyebrow, “I thought we were going to the Three Broomsticks. What are we doing at Harry’s house?”

“Well hello to you, too, ‘Mione!” he quipped, shooting her a crooked grin. “Why don’t you come on inside and see?” He heard grumbling as he was walking inside and chuckled, calling over his shoulder at her, “Ah, come on. A little spontaneity never hurt anyone!”

Hermione walked behind Harry and George into the living room to shouts of “Surprise!” Glancing around the room she could see Neville Longbottom and his girlfriend Luna Lovegood, Bill and Fleur Weasley, Ron and Lavender Weasley, Seamus Finnigan and his girlfriend Angelina Johnson, along with Harry and Ginny Potter. “Alright, what is all of this about?” she questioned.

“We wanted to have you over and say congratulations, ‘Mione! We know that ever since spew you have been working hard for house elves and with your bill being passed we wanted you to know how proud we all are of you. Congratulations!” Harry spun her around and pointed to the cake sitting in the middle of the table.

“For the love of Merlin, Harry. How many times do I have to tell you? It wasn’t spew. It was S.P.E.W.” She looked down at the cake with the smiling house elf and couldn’t help but throw him one of her famous cheshire cat grins. “Thank you guys. This was really thoughtful.”

With a loud pop, Harry opened up what would be the first of many bottles of champagne and filled each of the glasses that had been set out on the table. Grinning ear to ear he looked around the room, wrapped his arm around Hermione, and toasted, “To Hermione Granger! Now that your law has passed, we hope you get laid!”

While everyone else gathered around the room shouted “Here here!” amidst raucous laughter, Harry rubbed the back of his head where he had been cuffed for his less than appropriate toast. “I swear Harry,” she whispered, “you are damn lucky that I consider you family.”

* * *

In a large office at the top of a tall tower, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk sorting through a stack of communications that had collected over the course of the day. It was getting closer and closer to the start of the winter holidays and she had been so busy sorting out which students and professors were remaining at the school that she had managed to amass a large number of letters that required responses before she could retire for the evening.

She quickly signed her name to a letter to the Hogwarts Board of Governors regarding the date and agenda for the next governor’s meeting before sealing the letter with emerald wax stamped “MM”. She took a small sip of her warm chamomile tea and popped a ginger newt into her mouth while reaching for the next letter in the stack. A small sigh escaped from her lips upon realizing that she had grabbed yet another letter from the Minister of Magic.

Slitting the wax seal and unfolding the letter, she read:

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,_

_You are hereby invited to attend the annual Ministry of Magic holiday ball on Saturday, December the 20th, 2003 at 7pm. In addition to the ball, there will be a short presentation to present Miss Hermione Granger with the award for Outstanding Service to the Magical Community. Please R.S.V.P. by return owl no later than December the 15th._

_Regards,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_   
_Minister of Magic_

As she placed the invitation back down onto her oak desk, she slowly closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to wander to the young witch being honored. Her previous star pupil had become a close friend shortly after her graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione would frequently visit Hogwarts for tea and chess in the year following but quickly became exceedingly busy as she began to advance at the ministry.

Over the years, frequent visits had deteriorated into occasional visits; occasional visits had given way to yearly visits with intermittent letters. Eventually, it came to the point that she never saw the young witch, and they only exchanged the odd letter about their respective careers or some new advancement in transfiguration.

Minerva’s fingers drifted up to rub the back of her neck and she sighed again. She missed her lively and fierce debate partner. The intelligent and sharp witted woman had been one of the few people able to challenge her since her friend Albus Dumbledore had died and she couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about the fact that they had not remained close.

_There is no reason to be melancholy_ , she thought. _You are expected to appear at the holiday ball so why not talk to her and invite her for tea._ With that thought, she wrote out an elegant R.S.V.P. response in emerald green ink and set it in the stack of outgoing mail to be sent out for the evening.

* * *

A young brunette witch was leaning on a pillow propped up against her headboard reading an article on the possibility of energy transformation in the latest copy of Transfiguration Today. Transfiguration had always been Hermione’s passion and upon graduating she had wanted to pursue a career in the field by studying under a transfiguration master. However, in her third year she had made the decision that she would only take an apprenticeship if it was offered by Professor McGonagall as she wanted to study under the best master in the field.

When she had graduated, she had waited months to see if Professor McGonagall would discuss an apprenticeship with her. When the offer never came, she had taken the job in the ministry to continue her goals from S.P.E.W. She still kept up with the latest transfiguration developments and even though she hadn’t earned a mastery, Hermione was widely regarded as a prodigy in the field.

A week ago, after the announcement was made that her House Elf Rights bill had passed, she had received an unexpected letter from Madame Deivrot. Madame Deivrot was the professor of transfiguration at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France and was considered the second most authority in the field just behind Minerva McGonagall. The letter had requested a meeting with Hermione to discuss the possibility of taking a position as her apprentice for five years.

Shocked and quite excited to get the offer, Hermione had seriously considered taking the meeting, even going so far as to discuss the offer with George over lunch. In the end though, she had made the decision that as her friends and family were in England, she just couldn’t give up her current career and move out of the country, no matter how intriguing the offer had been.

Nimble fingers smoothed out the wrinkles in her lavender satin nightgown and she waved out her hand to dim the lights in her bedroom before sinking under her comforter. As she closed her eyes and her breathing evened out, her thoughts remained fixed on the subject of transfiguration and the image of a small tabby cat floated through her mind.

* * *

George Weasley was frantically pacing around the living room of his flat in his slightly wrinkled but quite dapper new tuxedo. With a quick glance down to his wristwatch he inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh realizing that for the first time in her life, Hermione was most certainly going to be late. “’Mione, are you ready yet? We have to be there in less than five minutes! Bloody hell woman, you’re the guest of honor!” he bellowed up the stairs.

Hermione passed a washrag under the faucet, wrung it out, and placed the cool cloth against her stiff neck letting her eyes flutter closed. Ever since the Triwizard Tournament she had hated being the center of attention, and tonight, there was no way for her to avoid it. The presentation for her award was to occur at seven followed by dinner and the annual Ministry of Magic holiday ball. Thoughts of the speech that she was required to give were causing her temples to throb and a slight sheen of sweat to appear on her neck.

“I will be down in just a minute, George!” she called back to her friend. George had agreed to accompany her as her “date” for the evening to hopefully help get her out of dancing with one of the many wizards who had read the article published by Rita Skeeter the week prior. Opening her eyes and inwardly cursing the unregistered animagus for the article, Hermione steeled her nerves and briskly walked down the stairs to meet her date.

George looked her up and down as she descended, letting out a low whistle followed by what could on be described as a howl. His friend was wearing a thin strapped, sparkling black dress that fell softly over her chest in a v-neck. Spinning her around, he could see that the back was cut down to the small of her back and you could see the pull of her muscles and a large expanse of milky white skin. Finally, a long slit split the dress from her ankle to mid-thigh exposing a long, smooth, and toned leg. “Damn ‘Mione! I’m going to have to beat them away with a stick!”

“Oh, if only they knew I didn’t fancy wizards,” she quipped. “I swear if I have to listen to one more person call me the most eligible witch of the year I am going to go into hiding in France.”

“Ah ‘Mione, it won’t be so bad. Just have fun and let loose for an evening. Maybe you can find yourself a nice witch to dance with!” George winked saucily at her and Hermione groaned back.

“I’ve told you George, I don’t want my picture plastered on the front of the Daily Prophet anymore. Besides, can you imagine the headlines that evil woman would come up with if I actually gave her something to write about?” she asked. “Let’s get going, Kingsley would be horrified if I were to be late.”

She threaded her hand through George’s arm and he gave her a small grin to assure her that everything would be fine as they walked through the front door of the flat and into the nearest alleyway to apparate to the Ministry. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered and with a loud pop they disappeared.

* * *

At a minute till seven, the guest of honor and her date strode into the ballroom and quickly took their seats at the round table closest to the stage. Hermione nodded to the Minister of Magic and wrapped her delicate fingers around a tall glass of red wine, bringing it to her lips and tipping it back to down the entirety in one fluid motion in an effort to calm her nerves.

Almost immediately, the Minister’s voice began booming out across the crowd. “Tonight, in addition to the annual holiday ball, we are here to honor a witch who has spent the last five years devoted to bringing equality to the treatment of magical creatures around the world. From her efforts to provide support and care to those bitten by werewolves, to her work to revoke the laws requiring magical creature tracking, to the recent passage of her House Elf Rights bill, Miss Hermione Granger has worked tirelessly for a great cause. It is my great pleasure to present her with the Ministry of Magic’s newest award for Outstanding Service to the Magical Community!”

A roar of applause reverberated and echoed throughout the ballroom and with a whispered “Knock ‘em dead!” from George, Hermione stood from her table and walked to the makeshift stage. Taking a deep breath, she held her wand to her throat and whispered the sonorous charm to begin her speech.

“I greatly appreciate this honor from the Ministry of Magic and the Minister himself. However, I must dedicate this award to the countless magical creatures in our world who have spent far too many years living amongst us as second class citizens. My efforts to correct previous wrongs against these creatures represent the work in my life that I am most proud of as these amazing creatures truly do deserve nothing less than an equal place in our world. I hope to be able to continue my work in this field for many years to come, and I look forward to the cooperation of the magical community. Thank you.”

After cancelling the sonorous charm, Hermione quickly left the stage to return to her seat next to George at the table. The red haired wizard leaned over and with a slight chuckle whispered, “See, that wasn’t so bad!” The flustered witch turned and gave him her best glare as the Minister announced the beginning of the feast and the decorated plates along the tabletop filled with roast turkey, honey ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, casserole, and French bread.

* * *

When the guests at the holiday ball had finished eating, the tables were cleared from the ballroom and soft tendrils of music began floating through the air. George turned to her and grabbed her hand in his, leaned in, and whispered softly into her ear, “Excuse me Miss Granger, may I have this dance?” As she giggled, he whisked her off into the middle of the floor and they began slowly moving in time to a waltz.

“You really are an amazing dancer George,” she said while grinning up at her partner. Two years ago they had taken dance lessons together for two weeks because she was tired of being unable to dance at the various ministry functions held throughout the year. It had taken many nights of sore shins and crushed toes, but eventually they had learned to dance quite beautifully together.

“Ah, but it is all about who you are dancing with, ‘Mione. I only dance this well with you,” he responded. He flashed her a brilliant smile, enjoying being able to dance with his best friend again. As the music crescendoed, he spun her out and back into his arms. “Have you seen her yet?”

A scowl quickly fell over her face replaced by a void expression with a carefully arched eyebrow as she succinctly stated, “I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Oh come on hun, we both know you are excited to see her. She always comes to the ministry events so you know she has to be here.” He was the only person she had spoken with about why she had fallen out of touch with the esteemed Headmistress. She had found herself falling for the woman and had distanced herself because she wasn’t comfortable with her newfound preferences. Over the years, Hermione had grown to understand and accept the fact that she fancied witches, but once they had fallen out of touch, she had never tried to reconnect with her mentor.

She let out a soft sigh of resignation and whispered, “Look George, not tonight. Just dance with me and enjoy the evening. No more of this.” She had spent years admiring the woman but she had accepted that they would never be close again and she didn’t want to spend the evening discussing it when she could be having fun with her best friend.

As he nodded his head in acceptance, the music changed to a quick tango and he winked at her. She tossed him her famous cheshire cat grin and pulled him closer to her chest as they began gliding across the floor in a sensual tangle of limbs. This was their favorite dance and they had spent months perfecting it after finishing their lessons.

When the song drew to a close, he dipped her down to mere inches above the floor and held her there for a moment before pulling her back up into his arms and placing a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, I do believe that was our best tango in years!” she exclaimed. “Let’s go grab some drinks.” She pulled him along to the table filled with refreshments, neither noticing the emerald eyes burning into them from the front of the room.

* * *

Champagne in hand, she stood scanning the dance floor and watching the guests of the ball dance merrily to the music. As the music changed to a tango, her lips quirked into a grin at the mass of dance partners that quickly left the floor. _Not many have what it takes to do the tango_ , she thought. Then she noticed a pair of dancers quickly captivating the onlookers as they glided across the room in each other’s arms.

She instantly recognized the man as George Weasley, but couldn’t see the woman’s face. She had long, straight brown hair flowing over her shoulders and her sparkling black dress with its almost nonexistent back left little to the imagination. She could see the woman’s taut muscles rippling across her back as she moved and her eyes were caught on the sway of her hips as she wrapped her leg around her partner.

_Merlin, what a woman_ , she thought as she watched the couple who danced so comfortably together. _They must be lovers._ As the last notes floated across her ears, the woman was dipped to the floor and looked up at her partner. _Hermione?_ As soon as she saw the woman’s face she recognized her former student. Her pulse began to quicken and she immediately pushed herself to dismiss the previous thoughts she had had.

As the couple left the dance floor, her emerald eyes followed them, focusing on their mannerisms. When they reached the refreshment table and a group of friends, she saw the woman stiffen and turn to walk out on the balcony. _Curious. Curiosity killed the cat._ With that thought, she followed the young woman, determined to find out what could be wrong and just maybe rekindle her long lost friendship.

* * *

As she walked up to the refreshment table with George, Hermione reached for another glass of champagne. Just as she was picking it up, a tall wizard with dark hair and blue eyes leaned over to her an asked, “Hey cutie, care for a dance?”

She immediately stiffened and quickly replied, “Sorry, I’m done dancing for the evening. Maybe next time.” Holding the glass she turned on her toes and darted to the nearest exit leading to the balcony, wanting to avoid any more dance offers.

Standing against the railing while the cool evening air breezed across her warm skin she closed her eyes and tipped her glass. As the liquid poured easily down her throat, she let her thoughts analyze the last five years and the feats that she had accomplished.

While it was true that she had made incredible progress with reforming the laws for magical creatures, she couldn’t help the familiar feeling of failure that was bubbling up in her chest. Her professional life was nothing but success after success, but what was the cost?

She had denied herself a personal life in fear that the bad press would hinder her progress in her work with the ministry. As one of the Golden Trio, Hermione knew that if she were to actually date a witch and follow her heart her relationship would be plastered across the media and she just couldn’t take that risk after all of her hard work.

It was a decision that she had spent many sleepless nights considering. It was the right decision at the time, she was sure of it, but looking back now the young witch couldn’t help but want things to change in her life. She wanted to take risks, to be herself. Most of all, she wanted to fall in love. With an exaggerated sigh, she resolved that she _would_ make the change, no matter the consequences.

“Why are you hiding out here alone, Miss Granger? Certainly you should be inside with your friends celebrating.” Hermione took in a sharp breath and her cheeks instantly flushed as the soft lilt carried across the air and into her ears.

Slowly, almost reverently, she turned around and her eyes caught onto the tall woman before her in an emerald green evening gown that had long sleeves and draped in an asymmetrical cut across her toned legs. A string of pearls graced her neck and her long black hair was pulled back into a traditional bun with a handful of curls remaining to frame her face.

As Hermione’s eyes stopped to reflect the gaze of deep green ones that sparkled in the moonlight, she couldn’t help the flush in her cheeks from spreading down her neck and across her chest. She swallowed another sip of champagne to wet her suddenly dry throat before gently replying, “Good evening, Headmistress. I was just getting some fresh air.”

“Please, Miss Granger, do call me Minerva.” The elder which stated softly, glad to have managed to keep the husk from creeping into her voice. The woman standing in front of her was nothing short of breathtaking.

“It has been a long time, Minerva, but there is no need for you to call me Miss Granger,” she quipped with a sly grin.

Minerva walked forward and leaned against the railing next to her. “Of course, Hermione. Now, why are you really out here?” She slowly turned her head to glance at the younger witch and saw a brief flash of emotion cross her eyes before it faded as she plastered on a smile.

“I will admit that I am not entirely a fan of large events, particularly when I am the guest of honor.”

The elder witch could see that Hermione was quite uncomfortable with being the center of attention during the event. Pushing aside the slight hesitation, she decided to offer her an escape if nothing more than to provide a moment of respite for her previously favorite pupil. “I was just about to return to Hogwarts for the evening. Would you care to join me for a drink and a game of chess?”

Hermione knew that she should stay for the remainder of the ball, but she had made herself a promise that she was determined to keep. The woman that she had admired for years was offering her an escape and a quiet evening. With an effort to keep her voice calm and nonchalant she responded, “I would love to, Minerva. Give me just a moment to say goodbye to George and I will meet you at the castle gates.”

* * *

**TBC - Please review! I have quite the idea for this story and I hope you will enjoy it!**


	2. Chapter 2

Always true to her word, ten minutes after leaving the balcony Hermione Granger appeared directly in front of the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been two long years since she had last visited the castle and looking out over the snow covered grounds caused her heart to flutter as fond memories of her school years swam through her consciousness. Only a soft and delicate hand pressing gently against her forearm and the creaking sound of a gate drifting open managed to bring her out of her reverie.

Silence filled the air as the two elegant women traipsed side by side up the path to the castle and entered through large and familiar oak doors. Both women were content just to be in the other's presence and intrigued by the idea of spending time together after such a long break in what had previously been a very close friendship. Minerva's quick, clipped gait came to a pause as she reached the stone gargoyle protecting the Headmistress' office and with a whispered "Pacem et Unitatem" the staircase appeared.

Minerva held out an arm and pointed upwards. "After you, dear." The tiniest of grins graced Hermione's features upon hearing the endearment and she ascended into the office with the elder witch on her heels. After stepping out of the stairwell, she allowed her eyes to carefully catalog the room. From the large mahogany desk on which each item appeared to be purposefully placed for maximum efficiency to the plush purple sofa and chaise sitting in front of the currently roaring fire, the room had not changed at all.

"I love what you've done with the place," Hermione quipped with a sarcastic smirk as Minerva walked into the room and reached to pull her antique chess set from its place atop a bookshelf. The chessmen made of ebony and boxwood from Jaques of London had been a gift from her father when she was a little girl and ranked quite highly amongst her most prized possessions. With only an arch of a finely sculpted brow in response, she handed the box to Hermione and returned to the corner of the room to stand in front of a large curio cabinet.

Hermione was reverently running the tips of her fingers over the smooth wood of the black knight piece appreciating the delicate craftsmanship when Minerva's lilt next graced her ears, "Would you care for a drink?" She had indulged in several glasses of champagne at the ball and still felt a bit flushed but made the decision to further her indulgence a bit more for the evening.

"I could acquiesce to one glass. What are you having?" With a tacit familiarity her mentor informed her that she preferred single malt scotch and had several varieties including Oban 18, Dalwhinnie 15, Lagavulin 16, and Macallan 18.

"If you really want to share, I would love the Oban 18. I prefer scotch from the West Highlands and the honey character puts it a notch above the Macallan in my opinion." For a moment, Minerva simply stood stock still regarding the younger witch and wondering when the woman before her had become so familiar with her favorite drink. Regaining her hold on the evening, she gracefully doled out two neat pours and set the glasses on the small table where Hermione had readied the board.

Hermione lifted the small glass to her nose inhaling the heady scent of the drink before taking a generous sip. She savored the heavily flavored liquid before swallowing and flicked her tongue across her lips in appreciation of the taste. As she advanced her pawn to start the game she added with a smile, "It is just as I remember. I have made the correct choice."

No longer able to contain her curiosity, the elder witch queried, "Who are you and when did you become so familiar with scotch?" The arched brow and pondering expression with curiosity playing behind emerald orbs caused Hermione to chuckle with mirth at eliciting such a response from the normally guarded Headmistress.

"I have been tasting scotch since I was quite young, Minerva. My father John had an extensive collection, so I was raised with a similar appreciation. Mum and him have given me a few new bottles every year since graduation and we went on a vacation together last year to visit several of the Scotland distilleries." Hermione took another much longer sip of the drink before placing the glass back down on the table and bringing her knight into play to counter Minerva's previous moves.

As she listened to the younger witches explanation with rapt attention, Minerva couldn't help but to feel excited about the new information being presented to her. Hermione had always been a talented and intriguing witch, but it was apparent now that there was so much more to her under the surface. More that Minerva was quickly realizing that she wanted to unabashedly explore.

* * *

Nearly two hours later the Headmistress' office was ringing with raucous laughter and the chessmen on the table lay all but forgotten. Hermione had regaled the older woman with tales of the vacation in Scotland which had led to Minerva sharing her own memories of visiting many of the same distilleries with her parents before the war with Grindelwald. As if no time at all had passed since their previous visits the light conversation had diverted to playful banter and discussions of academia and magical philosophy.

Taking a sip of her fifth glass of scotch, Hermione narrowed her eyes at the woman sitting across from her and accused, "You know, Minerva, if I didn't know better I would think that you brought me here to get me drunk and rile me up with your ridiculous notions on transfiguration intentionally!"

Feeling quite lightheaded from a night of drinking and having already thrown caution and propriety to the wind by providing a few more embarrassing anecdotes from her youth, Minerva stood and walked over to the chaise that Hermione was lounging against. The younger woman had removed her heels and was leaning back, propped haphazardly against her elbows, with her head tipped back and her eyes closed as her chest rose and fell from her steady breathing. Her moist lips were slightly parted and again a pink tongue flicked out to lap up a small drop of scotch that had remained, causing Minerva to bite the inside of her lower lip as a flush danced across her chest.

Leaning down and placing her lips mere inches from the brunette's left ear she whispered huskily, "What if that was my intention?"

Chocolate eyes immediately snapped open as Hermione realized her friend's new proximity and immediately darkened with lust at seeing the stormy gaze settled upon her from emerald orbs. Releasing a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and swallowing to regain a semblance of clarity she quietly replied, "If that is the case, Minerva, I believe that this evening will be quite a resounding success."

* * *

Long ebony lashes fluttered open as a stifled yawn died on rose colored lips. Glancing towards the clock ticking soundly against her bedroom wall, Minerva observed that it was just past three in the morning. Never one for being able to fall back asleep, she arched her back and casually stretched her limbs, gasping when her long and dainty fingers grazed something curiously warm and smooth behind her.

Unsure of what she would find, the witch slowly rolled over in her bed to gaze upon a mass of chestnut curls spread loosely across a pillow and the naked form of a younger witch snuggled deep into her sheets. Panicking, she wracked her brain attempting to remember the events of the previous evening and was met with a violent throbbing in her temples. Placing her fingertips on the source of the feeling she let out a whimper as flashes of the evening began flickering like an old film through her mind.

As if observing a disjointed memory in a pensive, second long glimpses of the her actions the night before appeared all at once. Flash.  _Velvety soft lips pressed against hers in urgency as her sinewy fingers grazed the delicate insides of a stockinged thigh._ Flash.  _Her sharp tongue darted over a pebbling dark nipple as its owner let out a soft moan of pleasure._ Flash.  _A whispered transfiguration spell gave way to the heavenly warm feeling of slipping into another woman._ Flash.  _Deep brown eyes rolled back amidst whispered promises of love intermixed with cries of ecstasy._ As suddenly as they had arrived, the memories flitted away, leaving a stunned and stuttering Minerva McGonagall with a rising feeling of panic in her chest as her heart thudded wildly in an effort to break free from her ribcage.

Launching herself from the bed as gracefully as possible so as to not awaken the younger witch, she ran towards the en suite and fell to the floor as the contents of her stomach emptied into the basin. Slowly she regained her composure, standing and splashing water onto her face from the sink while looking aimlessly into the mirror.  _What have I done? Hermione. A former student. This simply cannot happen._ With a deep and resigned sigh, Minerva began doing the same exact thing she had done every morning for the last five years; she left Minerva the woman behind and became the venerable Headmistress McGonagall.

* * *

It was several hours later when the young witch in her bed finally awoke to the soft rays of sun drifting in through the partially curtained window. Popping her neck to relieve some tension she spread her fingers and dug them into soft silken sheets.  _Bliss._ That was the only thought prevalent in her mind as she cautiously opened her eyes to revel in her surroundings. After an unexpected encounter at the ministry's holiday ball and an incredible evening of chess and drinks she had finally confessed her feelings to the woman she had loved for years, and the older witch had actually accepted.

Hermione slowly rose, grinning from ear to ear, and realized that Minerva must have woken earlier as the bedroom was otherwise unoccupied and the door to the office was closed. After taking a shower and transfiguring her dress into a casual pair of black slacks and a crimson button down top, she made her way out of the bedroom.

Upon entering the office, she stopped dead in her tracks, mind reeling. There in front of her sitting up perfectly straight on the sofa near the fire was the picture image of Headmistress McGonagall. Her lips were pulled firm into a straight line and her eyes were hard and emotionless with no evidence of the woman that she had joined with last eve. As emerald eyes raised to meet her own, a flash of guilt ripped across the surface only to be quickly buried again as the woman cleared her throat.

"Miss Granger, good morning. I trust you slept well?"  _Miss Granger? Miss Granger? How can she call me Miss Granger after screaming Hermione all night? This can't be real._

With a twinge of pain expressed on her delicate features she whispered, "I thought we had agreed that Hermione was preferable to Miss Granger, Minerva."

The Headmistress wasted no time, launching into the speech she had been reflecting on for the last several hours. With a hardened edge to her voice and a void expression she explained to the younger woman, "Miss Granger, I apologize for what occurred here last evening. It was a momentary lapse of judgment and I can assure you that it won't happen again. I am sure that you will agree that this was a mistake as clearly there can be nothing between us due to the fact that you have quite recently been a student under my care here at this institution."

The witch's voice had left no room for disagreement. The statements had been made as a factual presentation of obviousness that no one who had met her would ever have dared to challenge. Hermione knew that any response outside of acceptance would only cause the emptiness settling into her chest to ignite with sorrow and so she steeled her own emotions and with as much confidence as she could muster she responded, "I believe you are correct. Good day, Headmistress," and stepped past the woman to flee from the school grounds before her tears began to fall.

* * *

Dreary winter days became weeks and on a cold morning in February Hermione found herself, for the third day in a row, bent over the loo with the most uncomfortable feeling of nausea that she had experienced in her twenty two years of life. The frail looking woman groaned audibly as she dry heaved again while George held back her long locks and pressed a cool compress to the back of her neck. "Come on love, enough of this. We have to get you to St. Mungo's. Three days you have been chunking and it's the first time I've seen you ill since I met ya!"

George had been attempting to convince her to visit a healer since the first day when she had fumbled down the stairs looking like death warmed over in a lopsided black robe and declared that she would be owling in sick. Sitting against the cold tile in her bathroom now, though, she knew she couldn't forestall the visit any longer. "Fine George, I consent. I'll head over to see someone this afternoon," she whispered.

"Oh no you don't, love! I'm chaperoning. We are leaving as soon as you have had a shower." With that declaration, he gently kissed the top of her head and left her side to go get dressed and let St. Mungo's know they would be on their way shortly.

* * *

"When did you first begin to feel ill, Miss Granger?" the healer questioned while running another quick diagnostic spell on the woman in the hospital bed before her. So far she had been unable to locate any evidence of a flu or stomach virus causing the young witch's reported symptoms.

Hermione reflected on the question momentarily before replying, "I guess I felt a bit nauseous on Monday, but it has only been the past three days that I have actually been sick in the morning."

"In the morning? You haven't been sick at any other point throughout the day," the older healer queried with a curious expression.

Again the younger woman quietly reflected before answering with a sure and concise, "Nope. Just the mornings." At this response the mediwitch whispered a different diagnostic spell and repeated the process of swinging her wand across Hermione's abdomen.

Upon seeing the flash of white light resulting from the diagnostic the woman gave a soft smile and informed her patient, "Well, Miss Granger, congratulations are in order! You are six weeks pregnant!" When she didn't hear a reply while marking the young woman's chart she looked up only to find a very unconscious Hermione Granger. "Oh, dear."

* * *

An hour later, after the healer had administered a calming draught and left the room, George Weasley gently placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder and shook her awake. With heavy lidded eyes and a strange taste in her mouth, Hermione took stock of her surroundings. She was still in the same hospital bed in St. Mungo's and she could see someone with bright red hair sitting in a chair to the side of her bed.

_Why am I covered up? What happened…_ she thought. As if answering the silent question, a light bulb went off in her brain and she suddenly remembered the last thing the older woman had stated before she had passed out. Eyes now wide with trepidation, Hermione turned to her friend hoping for some sort of confirmation that this was another one of his pranks. Over the years he had managed to pull one over on her several times, and this would surely be his most genius effort to date.

However, upon seeing the concerned look in those soft brown eyes, she realized this wasn't one of his clever schemes. A gasp escaped her lips as her hand raised to cover her mouth and tears began to well up in her eyes and spill over long lashes. "Hermione, who? Who did this to you?" the young man asked softly hoping to help her to remain calm and keep her conscious.

With a short sob and a few mumbled words she whispered, "I can't George. I just can't. I'm sorry." More sobs wracked her frail frame as she leaned back into the bed and tightly shut her eyes in an effort to block out the entirety of the world as it closed around her. "This is one secret I will take to my grave. I'm so sorry."

Standing quickly and wrapping his arms around the younger which, George sighed, "Hush love, we'll get through this. It will be okay, you'll see. Rest now. We can figure it all out later."

* * *

While Hermione was well versed on muggle pregnancy and birth, she had no clue what to expect when carrying a magical child. The truth of the matter was that due to her preferences she hadn't given much thought at all to the idea of children. She was very conscious of the fact that she would likely begin to show in just a few weeks and so she had decided to make a trip to Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley to pick up a few resources about what to expect while she was expecting.

She opened the door to her favorite shop and began meandering around the large rooms with her right hand softly resting against her lower belly. Over the past several days, since finding out about her unexpected situation, she had grown accustomed to the idea that a new life was growing inside of her. While still quite flabbergasted and unsure about the future, she was sure of one thing; she loved this child.

With her thoughts consumed by what was to come she paid no attention as she was rounding the corner of the nearest shelf and walked directly into another person coming around the opposite end. She stumbled gracelessly and fell to her rear with a thud while exclaiming, "I am so sorry! I just wasn't paying any attention to where I was going!"

Emerald eyes shrouded in frustration took in the sight of her assailant before flashing with concern as she realized who had been knocked down. Taking a quick glance at the woman to ensure that she was not injured, Minerva found herself gazing a moment too long.  _She looks well, almost as if she is glowing._ The older witch had always been able to see something in magical auras and though she couldn't put her finger on it, she was sure something about the young woman had changed.

"Miss Granger," she greeted before offering her hand to assist with lifting the woman before her up off of the ground. As she pulled Hermione to her feet, she removed any evidence of her previous concern from her face before adding, "I hope you have been well."

Staring into depths of emerald green and searching for any sign of emotion, Hermione was torn. Torn between how to react the older witch mere inches in front of her.  _Scream at her. Cry. Run away, quickly._ In the end, she settled for a clipped, "Yes, Headmistress." The formality from the woman and the lack of any familiarity or fondness in her voice was crushing. A shot of adrenaline coursed hazardously through her veins causing her to tremble in a mixture of hurt and fear.

_How could she be so cold, so callous?_ Hermione wondered.  _Here she is, the mother of my child, and she can't even say my first name._ The young woman had spent several sleepless nights pondering the unpleasant situation between them and debating the idea of informing Minerva, if only to allow her a chance at being a part of the child's life. Seeing the way she was reacting to her now, she closed the book on that possibility without another moment's pause.

The Headmistress nodded slightly and with an air of indifference in her voice bid the younger woman good day and turned to continue perusing the selection of tomes along the shelves in the isle she had entered. At this action, Hermione felt the adrenaline in her veins morph into tendrils of lava hot rage. Without a single second of consideration, she raised her wand, pointed it at the back of the older witch's head and whispered, "Obliviate."

* * *

After her run in with the Headmistress, Hermione had apparated back to her London flat and fallen into bed cursing herself for her reaction. While removing Minerva's memory of the events after the ministry ball would hopefully resolve the uncomfortable tension in their interactions, she had eliminated the possibility of ever sharing the news of their unborn child with the woman.

_How could I have been so careless? I had no right to take that from her. She behaved the way she did for a reason. She has always prided herself on propriety and putting her own feelings behind the needs of the wizarding world. Of course she would distance herself. What else had I honestly expected?_ she wondered.  _I didn't expect anything; it is what I wanted that is the problem. I wanted her love in return._

Abandoning herself to her thoughts she considered the events of the past few weeks and the way that they had irrevocably altered her life. She was a member of the Golden Trio and the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was the youngest department head in history and had made groundbreaking strides in magical creature law reform. Any bit of information about her personal life would be plastered across the Daily Prophet by Rita Skeeter before you could say "fire whiskey".

The young woman could see it now, the headlines speculating about torrid love affairs and making postulations about who the mystery man in her life could be. She could hear the abrasive questions ringing in her ears as people judged her actions and berated her for her behavior.  _I can't do this,_ she thought solemnly.  _I can't have my life put under a microscope when the world realizes I'm carrying a child. I won't raise a baby in that type of environment. I just won't._

With her face set in a resolute expression, the young woman reached into the drawer of her nightstand and grabbed a spare quill and a piece of parchment and began to write.

_Madame Deivrot,_

_I hope that this letter finds you well. I realize that I responded to you several weeks prior informing you that after careful consideration I would be unable to accept your offer for apprenticeship. I now believe that I made that decision in error. Over the past several weeks I have been considering my future and the direction that I would like for my life and have decided to take an apprenticeship under a transfiguration master to advance my abilities in that field._

_If you would still be willing to instruct me, I would greatly enjoy studying under you as I know you are held in only the highest regard by the transfiguration community and I could learn a great deal from you. However, I do understand if you have already accepted another apprentice and will work to find another master to instruct me. Thank you again for your consideration._

_Regards,_

_Hermione Granger_

* * *

A steady hand raised a blue teacup to her lips as she took a small sip of the lightly flavored chamomile tea. "Thank you again for giving me this opportunity Madame Deivrot. I really can't tell you how excited I am to begin my apprenticeship," she stated while looking over the documents she had been given about her upcoming mastery training.

"Nonsense, dear. It is my pleasure. It isn't often that a master gets to train someone considered a prodigy in the field. Now please, call me Helene." She gave a soft smile to the younger witch before continuing, "I am afraid I must be off to a staff meeting but I have arranged for the academy's mediwitch to take you on a tour of the grounds before showing you to your new quarters. I believe that you two have met, her name is Gabrielle Delacour."

* * *

The tall and lanky blonde woman was standing with her back to the hospital wing door checking her potions stores when she heard footsteps behind her. Spinning around gracefully to see a brunette witch enter the room she excitedly exclaimed, "Ah, 'Ermione! I was wondering when I would be seeing you! 'Elene said you would be arriving today, but she was not sure what time. It is so good to see you again!"

Hermione was relieved to see at least one friendly face in what would be her home for the foreseeable future. "Gabrielle, it is good to see you, too," she replied with a grin. "I trust you have been well?"

"Indeed!" the younger witch responded jubilantly, "'Elene 'as also informed me that you 'ave some concerns about medical treatment while you are 'ere. I am 'appy to say that I will be able to accommodate your requests and you 'ave no reason to worry about discretion or privacy. 'Ere at Beauxbatons, we always take care of our own."

The English witch had been greatly concerned that even with taking a job in a foreign country she would still have to be extremely cautious about information regarding her pregnancy being leaked to the press. She had informed Madame Deivrot that she was pregnant and that she was hoping to be able to raise the child at Beauxbatons while she completed her apprenticeship. Helene had reassured her that her quarters and the elves would be more than accommodating of her new addition and that the healer on staff had delivered multiple children for various professors during her tenure.

These reassurances had relieved Hermione's fears and made her positive that taking the apprenticeship in France had been the right decision. She knew that she was running away from her problems in England, but she had to put her child's future first and here she could raise the child away from prying eyes and ears while securing knowledge that would give her an even brighter future than her promising career at the Ministry of Magic would have.

Madame Deivrot was planning to retire from teaching in five years once Hermione's apprenticeship was completed and, provided that she had successfully completed the program, she would be given the position as Helene's replacement. In truth, the job offer had been a dream come true, and she found that for the first time in several weeks she was greatly looking forward to everything that the future had to offer.

* * *

Just over nine hundred miles away, the Headmistress of Hogwarts sat stiffly at the center of the head table in the Great Hall speaking with her deputy, Professor Flitwick, over breakfast. Just as they were discussing the upcoming break and the budget for the following year a small white owl swooped overhead and dropped the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet into her hands.

While continuing her conversation with the diminutive professor, she unfolded the paper and skimmed the latest headlines. Halfway down the page, she paused mid sentence to re-read the headline:  **Hermione Granger Resigns From Ministry! Takes Apprenticeship With Famed Transfiguration Master Madame Deivrot!**

An unfamiliar feeling of jealously reared up as Minerva McGonagall scanned the article which provided the information that the young witch had moved to France to work with the transfiguration master at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Unsure as to the origin of the feeling, the Headmistress refolded the paper and, after making a quick apology to her deputy for the interruption, resumed her prior discussion.

* * *

**AN: Many can attest to the fact that I have a long history of abandoning my writing. I make no promises.**


End file.
